I knocked.
A gust of wind shrieked furiously around the building, then subsided to a sound like the flapping of wings.
The door was opened a few inches. The light almost dazzled me. I had a glimpse of the unbidden guest, and saw that he wore a loose dressing gown of an unusual shade of red.
"Has anything disturbed you?" I asked.
"No," he replied, with much concern in his deep, organ voice, yet his black eyes were laughing. "Why do you ask?"
"We heard a strange noise," I answered shortly. "Is your ankle better?"
"I thank you — very much," he said. "I am awaiting my man's report respecting the state of the car."
There was nothing in his handsome dark face, in his deep voice, or even in Ills laughing eyes to justify it, but at that moment I felt certain, beyond any possibility of doubt, that the noise had come from his room. I wanted to run! In fact, I do not know how I might have acted, if Ryland hadn't joined me.
"Sorry to have disturbed you," came his jovial tones, "but the house is full of funny noises! By the way, I forgot to mention that my name is Wilbur Earl Ryland, and I hope you'll stay just as long as it suits you!"
"I thank you," was the unemotional reply. "You are more than kind. I am Count de Stano of Padua. Good night."
He closed the door.
Again came the wind, shrieking around the end of the wing like a troop of furies; and again came an uncanny flapping. Earl caught at my arm.
"What is it?"
"Did you hear — someone laughing?"
"No," I said unsteadily. "It was the howling of the blizzard."
At the landing, he turned to me again.
"What had the Count burning in his room?" he muttered. "That wasn't candlelight!"
We found a crowd awaiting us at (he foot of the staircase. No one was anxious to go to bed, and arrangements were made by several of the more nervous to share rooms.
"Has the Count's chauffeur returned?" Earl asked Knowl-son.
"He's just come into the servants' hall now, sir. He—"
"Lock up, then."
"He'd been out in all that snow, sir.".** "Well?"
"There wasn't a sign of any on his coat."
The man's voice shook and he glanced back at the group of servants, none of whom seemed disposed to return to their quarters.
"He wore another over it, ass!" snapped Ryland. "Set about your business, all of you! You are like a pack of children."
We experienced no further alarms, save from the uncanny howling of the wind, but there were no more ghost stories. Those who went to bed ascended the great oak staircase in parties. Mr Ryland, Earl and I were the last to go, and we parted at last without reference to the matter, of which, I doubt not, all of us were thinking.
Sleep was almost impossible. My quaint little oak-panelled room seemed to rock in a tempest which now had assumed extraordinary violence. For hours I lay listening for that other sound which was not the voice of the buzzard and which, although I had belittled, I had beard as clearly as Earl had heard it.
I detected it at last, just once — a wild, demoniacal laugh.
I leaped to the floor. The sound had not been within the house, I thought, but outside. Clenching my teeth in anticipation of the icy gust which would sweep into the room, I slight ly opened the heavily leaded window. The south wing was clearly visible.
Out from the small, square window of the study of Maccabees Nosta poured a beam of fiery light, staining the snow flakes as they swirled madly through its redness.
A moment it shone, and was gone.
I pulled the window fast.
Strange needs teach us strange truths. I was sure in that hour that the simple faith of Father Bernard was greater than all our wisdom, and I would have given much for his company.
For me the pleasures and entertainments of the ensuing day were but gnawing anxieties and fruitless vigils. Who was the man calling himself de Stano? Stano was merely a play on Nosta. To what place had his chauffeur taken his car to be repaired? Why did he avoid Father Bernard, as that morning I had seen him do? De Stano claimed acquaintance with mutual friends, all of them absent. Earl was too hospitable. A man who could walk, even with the aid of a big ebony stick, could reach the station in a borrowed car and proceed on his journey.
Devrers Hall was nearly empty, but by one pretext or another I had avoided joining any of the parties. As I stood smoking on the terrace, Mrs Van Eyck came out, dressed in a walking habit which displayed her lithe figure almost orientally.
"Mr Bowman and I are walking over to the monastery. Won't you join us, Mr Cumberly?" she said.
"Thank you, but some unexpected work has come to hand and I fear I must decline! Have you seen our new guest recently?"
"The Count? Yes, just a while ago. What a strange man! Do you know, Mr Cumberly, he almost frightens me."
"Indeed!"
"He is a most accomplished hypnotist! Oh, I must show you! He was angry with me for being skeptical, you know, and suddenly challenged me to touch him, even with my little finger. I did, look!"
She had pulled off her glove and held out her hand. The top of one finger was blistered, as by contact with firel "Hypnotic suggestion, of course," she said laughingly. "He is not always red hot."
She laughed gaily as young Bowman came out; the two walking off together.
I re-entered the house.
None of the servants had seen the Count, and when I knocked at his door there was no reply. Passing back along the corridor I met Lister Hanson.
"Hello!" I said. "I thought you were out with the others."
"No. I had some trivial matters to attend to; Majorie and the youngsters have gone skating."
I hesitated.
"Is Earl with them?"
Hanson laughed.
"He has motored over to the station. Mona Verek is due some time within the next three hours."
Should I confide in him? Yes, I decided, for I could contain my uncanny suspicions no longer.
"What is your opinion of this de Stano?" I asked abruptly.
Hanson's face clouded.
"Curiously enough, I have not met him," he replied. "He patently avoids me. In fact, Cumberiy, very few of the folks have met him. You must have noticed that on one pretence or another he has avoided being present at meals? Though he is living under the same roof, I assure you the bulk of us have never seen him.'3 It was sufficient. I at any rate felt assured of a hearing, and, drawing Hanson into my own room, I unfolded to him the incredible suspicions which I dared to harbour and which were shared by Father Bernard.
At the end of my story, the young clergyman sat looking out the window. When he turned his face to me, it was unusually serious.
"It is going back to the Middle Ages," he said, "but there is nothing in your story that a Churchman may not believe. I have studied the dark pages of history which deal with witchcraft, demonology and possession. I have seen in Germany the testimonies of men as wise as any we have today. Although I can see your expected incredulity and skepticism, I assure you I am at one with Father Bernard upon this matter. The Count de Stano, whoever or whatever he is, must quit this house."
"But what weapons have we against—"
"Cumberiy, if some awful thing in the shape of man is among us, that thing has come in obedience to a summons. Do you know the legend of Devrers Hall, the dreadful history of the place?"
I nodded, greatly surprised.
"You wonder where I learned it? You forget that I have dipped deeply into these matters. Directly after the party broke up, I had intended to induce Earl to leave. Cumberiy, the place is unclean."